Monson Fonsons

Monson Fonsons

Saturday, January 31, 2015

When Nothing Is Truly Your Own

I often look down at the chipped and damaged nail polish on my no-longer-pristine toes and think how nice it would be if I could just sit down, right that very moment, and repaint them. You know, just because I want to, and because it would be so nice to do something that I want to do in the exact moment that I want to do it. I know that I can't, because that would require an uninterrupted minute to myself to get them done, which I certainly have none of (and/or a dedication of 45 extra minutes to paint thirty other little toes), and so my toenails remain chipped and damaged for weeks until I steal a few moments from my own sleep to do them right and then have to make sure the sheets don't smear the still-wet color as I stagger exhausted into my bed.

It's frustrating, this knowledge, and yet I have to remind myself that this was the life I chose for myself, though I did not know that at the beginning. Well, I knew what I was choosing, I just didn't know what I was choosing, if you know what I mean.

It is definitely not the life I imagined, nor was certain I would live. Unfulfilled are the moments I pictured in my my pre-mothering days of children playing cooperatively while I happily organized cupboards or recorded profound thoughts in my journal. (I believe my last profound thought occurred in early 2003. And journal? Isn't that one of those pretty books with the blank pages that I sometimes see at the store?)

In reality, it is a life of half-done (or not-done) tasks; of vacuum cleaners sitting in the middle of unvacuumed rooms, of water left running and refrigerator doors left swaying in the wind as if they marked the entrance to a wild-west saloon. (And let's just say it's a good thing they don't.) It is a life of standing-while-eating, of using the bathroom with a captive audience, of breaking up fights, of driving with only one eye on the road and a hand reached into the backseat, of interrupted thoughts and tasks, and, ironically, of yelling at certain individuals that, in our family, we don't yell at one another. It is a life of giving up my half-eaten apple so that a cute little someone with a runny nose will stop crying for it. It is a life of humidifiers, and bug cream, and band-aids, of annoying television shows, play-dates, doctor's appointments, missing socks, out-grown shoes, smudgy fingerprints, tangled hair, wasted dinners, endless lists, and ever-mounting piles of laundry. It is a life of giving more than you could ever imagine that you had the power to give. It is a life where my time is not my own. Where my lap is not my own. My muscles are not my own. My earrings and shoes are not my own. Where my desk and pens and scissors are not my own. Where my apple, ice cream, soda, yogurt, [insert food item here], are not my own.

Nor is my heart my own, for each day it is being cleaved into four beautiful, frustrating, and endlessly amazing little pieces of flesh that walk around this life without me; that think, and act, and play, and sing, and roll their eyes completely independently from me.

It is hard, this life. So hard that there are days when I could just cry in frustration. So hard that sometimes getting out of bed and jumping knowingly into the madness is an exercise in sheer willpower.

But it is a life that somehow makes me whole even as it tears me into pulsing little pieces. A (difficult, crazy, not-my-own) life that is making me into who I am meant to be: A (desperately flawed, frantically well-meaning) mother who, though she often longs to be a mere onlooker rather than a player in a leading role, and fights at times to be separate and apart from the daily ins and outs of all of it, is creating a life for her children where they know that they are adored, and valued, and worthy of love. Where it is safe for them to laugh or cry or be angry if they need to be. Where they can be creative and make messes and learn sacrifice and cooperation, and start work on becoming the unique, beautiful individuals that the Lord has intended them to be.

And fifteen or twenty years from now when they call me in tears because their lives (and laps and time and apples) are not their own, I will feel for them and tell them I understand. And I will say a silent prayer that they will learn what they are meant to learn from this very difficult experience.

And I will feel just the tiniest, littlest bit of satisfaction as I hang up the phone and go back to my book in the silence of my (very clean) room.


{they're so precious to me, these crazy little heart-pieces of mine}


Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Spencer How-To's

Man, I had so many plans for the good ol' blog this January. So many pictures to post, so many words of...ahem...wisdom to share, so much humor to include. Sadly, January is turning out to be pretty much just as crazy-making as December was, and I have had neither the mental capability nor the willpower to do any of the aforementioned things. Good thing I can always fall back on pictures of Spencer to fill the void.

As many of you know, Spencer is my first boy. And boy is he a BOY. So much energy. So much crazy. So much chair-moving and table-climbing and toilet-playing and faucet-turning-on-ing and dishwasher getting-in-ing and drink-spilling and shopping cart-climbing out of-ing, all paired with a general inability to sit still (unless he is sleeping) (and probably not really even then) that my head is constantly spinning and I am fairly certain that I am basically ignoring my other children entirely. (Wait...I DO have other children, right?)

Oh, this kid. He's taught me a thing or two.

And now, he wants to teach you. Since none of you are here to witness and experience what it is to live in a house with this little boy, he and I have decided to put together a tutorial. You know, just to help you understand some of the things that you're missing out on.

Prepare for learning, people.

Tutorial #1: How to Help Undecorate the Christmas Tree


step 1: climb really high on Daddy's ladder and scare the poo out of everyone.
Your work is done.

Tutorial #2: How to Help Make Dinner


step one: find some sort of batter to snack on and make a big mess.



step two: cry until Mommy gives you some broccoli and then 
chew it up and regurgitate it onto the chair you are standing on.
(I mean, why did she give you broccoli in the first place? That stuff's gross.)


step three: wander into the pantry and find some stale bread to eat out of the trash.
(Make sure you take your batter spoon with you.)

Tutorial #3: How to Take a Bath (Even When Mommy Won't Give You One)


step one: Wait until Mommy is in the shower. Then climb on into the tub
and turn the water on. (This step works best while wearing clothes.)


step two: Make sure you grab the dirty rag on the bathtub ledge and put it in 
your mouth a few times. The more Mommy yells, the funner the experience.
(And after all, that's what she gets for not giving you a bath in the first place.)

Tutorial #4: How to Reorganize the Pantry



step one: put on some sparkly boots


step two: feign innocence


step three: organize away!

Tutorial #5: How to Take a Great Picture


step one: Smile


step two: Lunge!

Tutorial #6: How to Relax After Church


step one: Remove pants and don high heels.
That is all.

Hope you all have learned some valuable lessons. I know I have. 

This kid schools me all dang day long.


Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Bright Beginning


Birthday Wishes

Dear Michael,


Hope your birthday is SUPER.

Little underwear-head here, Craig, the girls and I all love you faster than a speeding bullet. Thanks for the awesome.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Some Day Soon

Our backyard has looked a little like a minefield over the last few months. (When it hasn't been busy looking like a chocolate river, that is.) The weather has finally stayed nice long enough that Craig (with the help of two very nice missionaries) has finally been able to get the trenches for the gas lines dug once and for all and get the PE piping in. That means that we can finally get the decking done and get this thing done. Woo hoo! (Did you see how I just said "we"? That's funny.)





It's a mess right now but if everything goes as planned, it should be done in time for the melting season, which will soon be upon us.

(Right, sweetie??)

Monday, January 19, 2015

Happy Christmas to All

Well, here it is. The Christmas Post. You know, the one that you have all (okay, not really) been waiting for. But this is the last one to go in the blog book for 2014, so I better get it done so Craig can finish up editing and getting the book together (and also stop asking me when I think I am going to finally write this post.)

Christmas was dreamy. We did stockings, (ate candy), had an unhealthy breakfast (followed by candy), then opened the rest of our gifts (and had just a little more candy). The kids even slept in until 8. (Well, actually, they were up before that and just didn't wake us up until 8 because they were under strict orders not to come in our room until then. Sorry, peeps that got up when it was still dark outside; that's just how we roll.) Then we napped, got dressed, and hung out with family for leftovers, fun, and festivities until we crawled back in bed and hibernated some more. What more could we ask for?

Here's the plethora of pics:


{The famous Candy Trail. Thank goodness Santa shops the candy sales after 
Halloween. No one seemed to notice that the m & m's were in Fall colors.}


{the spread}


 



{everyone's loot}



{the before and after of the American Girl Dolls, which really aren't American Girl Dolls 
at all, though no one seems to mind. And they call them "American Dolls" anyway.}


{under the Kistletoe, Julia's present for Craig and I, made out of 
materials that she pulled off of our wreaths. Tricksy Hobbit.}


{A stomachache for Christmas? Yes, please!}


{Some great moments.
The above pic of Lexa is my fave.}



{more sweet treats, courtesy of Linda}


{Winding down with Grandma Lorene at the end of the day.}

I found a quote last year that I really love:

"There is no greater gift at Christmas than to have 
everything you want before you open the gifts."

Though I love the sentiment, this year and last, it actually felt true this Christmas and I was so grateful for that. After all the shopping, and bargain hunting, and planning ahead and trying to find the things that everyone will love, there is absolutely something (everything, really) to be said for contemplating the magnificent gifts in our lives that we get to experience each and every day: healthy bodies, able minds, treasured relationships, love to feel and to share, talents to develop, trials that bring strength and clarity, a loving God who gave us life and is our biggest supporter. 

And the best part? We get to open those gifts on every single day of the year.

Hope your Christmas was magical and memorable.

{When There Was} One More Sleep Til Christmas

Christmas Eve was a dream. My fabulous mother-in-law Linda spoiled us with a delicious ham dinner and all I had to do was make the mashed potatoes...which I pretty much delegated to my brother, Michael. (Though I did peel and boil them. With Spencer's help, of course.) The rest of the day we pretty much just hung out and cleaned up. And, I think there was a quick trip to Target somewhere in there for some last-minute items. (Note to self: avoid Target if possible on Christmas Eve. It seems most people wait until then to do all of their shopping.) I'm pretty sure we fit a nap in there, too. Cleaning, Target, napping and a wonderful ham dinner are a good combination for a fabulous Christmas Eve, if I do say so. (Even though Target was crazy. I sure love that place.)


{helpful child}


{preparing to feast}


{being silly with Dryden}


{hanging with Uncle Nate}


{Loving on Grandma Lorene}


{obligatory photo montage}


{nightgowns from Grandma Linda}

We snuck in some present opening time before dinner and then we all mooned over Baby Kaden for the rest of the night and argued over whose turn it was to hold him next. (The girls have nothing on me. I am most definitely his fave. After his mommy, Annie, anyway.) Then we watched him make adorable faces and snuggled him and tried to plot how we could send his parents home conveniently forgetting that he was still at our house. Sadly, we were foiled in the attempt. 




It was definitely a Merry Christmas Eve to all, and to all a good night!

Thursday, January 8, 2015

LeFou, I'm Afraid I've Been Thinking...

The holidays are over, so with all my...er...spare time, I'm trying to get sort of caught up on here. (By the way, is it seriously January already? This is getting ridiculous.) 

Back in November, Lex, Grandma Linda, and I went to see the Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast in downtown Phoenix. It was spectacular. I could have stayed all day to listen and watch, but it turns out the play ends and then you have to leave. Lexa loved every minute, though she kept reminding me that the people we were watching were not the "real" characters from the animated movie. Very true, but everything about it was still quite fabulous...you know, as if there was something there that wasn't there before...


{obligatory theater pose}


{my little belle}



{sweet balcony seats}







{obligatory theater posse...
{we'll just pretend I took these pictures}





After the play, we got to see the Top Secret Decorating of the Giant Christmas Tree inside the
Wells Fargo building, and of course had to photograph ourselves in front of the life-size stagecoach.
{They say, "Together, we'll go far," but this fancy stagecoach refused to take us anywhere. Rats.}


The long ride home proved to be a little too much for this beauty to handle.